


A Long Time Coming

by rae_aaah



Series: Written for Others [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rae_aaah/pseuds/rae_aaah
Summary: It’s hot, slick, wicked- a little dirtier than Lance would have ever expected and his blood pounds through his veins like a bass. He lifts his legs and wraps them around Keith’s waist, bringing them flush together, the space in-between the vee of Lance’s thighs turning warm and easy. Keith is a wall of solid, tense muscle and Lance doesn’t feel like he’ll break him. He slides his fingers into Keith’s hair, loosens the strands of his low ponytail with his fingers as he holds on. Keith whines into his mouth when he tugs a little too sharply, ruts up against Lance and oh, interesting. He pulls again and Keith grunts, disconnects their lips.





	A Long Time Coming

**Author's Note:**

> written for neptunesunsets that wanted a post S8 get together

Lance is milking Kaltenecker when he hears a faint pop and Kosmo is whining, pressing his nose to Lance’s cheek. He doesn’t push, just smells at Lance’s face, behind his ear, the fringe at the nape of his neck.

“Hey, buddy,” Lance says with a giggle. He wipes his cheek with the ball of his shoulder and he sees Kosmo wag his tail. “Where’s your- hi, Keith,” and Lance feels his face strain with the smile that spreads across his jaw.

Keith walks up to them with a smile. “Hi, Lance,” all easy grace. He’s grown more into his face and body, the scar more faded after all these years. Lance feels his face and throat heat a little at remembering what he said when Keith came back from the abyss- bigger, cooler, grizzled- he clears his throat as subtle as he can.

Keith comes up to Kaltenecker and pets at her nose. He feeds her a little hay from a bale cinched behind him. She takes it from his hand with her long tongue and Keith laughs a little when it brushes his palm and Lance feels his throat flush more, creeping up to his cheeks.

“How’ve you been?” Lance asks, something to distract himself. He puts the package behind him. He’ll open it after washing his hands. He goes back to milking Kaltenecker. He’s almost done and in a bit they can have fresh milk with a batch of brownies his mother made this morning.

“I'm alright,” he answers. “Missed this though,” he says looking around. 

Something weak flutters in Lance’s chest. He laughs. “What, you mean the farm? I’ll put you to work then,” and his breath catches in his throat when Keith turns to him after surveying around.

There’s a small smile on Keith’s face, his eyes bright and focused on Lance. “Something like that,” and he’s rolling up his sleeves. “What do you need me to do?”

Lance looks at Keith a little dazed. “Bring that hay bale closer and fill the trough, please. I have to finish milking one more and then we can make lunch.”

Keith nods and moves over to the stack of hay bales and reaches down to grasp at the straps. Keith’s forearms are thick and corded, and they flex as he lifts. Lance watches him a little stupidly as he sees the rounded curve of his biceps stand out. Keith plops it down besides the trough and pulls his blade from the sheath affixed to his belt. It slices through the strap easily.

He litters the trough with hay and Kaltenecker butts her head against him. He laughs and that thing that fluttered in his chest before grows stronger.

*

It’s well after midday when they break to go inside the house. Kosmo takes up residence in the living room, tucking his doggy head against his front paws.

They dance around each other in the kitchen and Lance tracks Keith by his body heat; at his side, at his back- Keith’s hand a burning brand against his lower spine and Lance shivers. Keith smells like cold wind and deep space, things Lance sometimes misses. But he’s here now. He’s here, and he brings with him the smell of beloved things. The clean, sweet scent of sweat.

Keith is leaning his hip against the counter as he watches the small television in the corner. He licking around the inside of his mouth, his tongue bulging his cheek as it searches for any remaining brownie. He lifts the glass of milk to his mouth and sips and Lance is suddenly captivated in the way that his throat moves. 

The knife that cuts through his finger is sharp and he doesn’t even know it’s happened until residual water from his hands gets into it and stings his skin. “Fuck!” and he’s bringing his finger up to his mouth and sucking at the pad, the taste of salt and copper mingling on his tongue. Keith is suddenly there with worried hands that encircle his wrist to bring his finger from his mouth. 

“Don’t, that’s dirty,” and he’s turning on tap, putting a small amount of soap onto Lance’s finger, rubs gently at the wound and the skin turns slick and hot and Lance shivers again, but this time, deep in his gut- in his knees...

“Keith, man- what-” and Keith turns to him, eyes bright, curious and open. 

“Let me take care of you,” he says and god, Lance must be dreaming. Please let him not be dreaming…

“O-okay,” he nods and Keith turns off the water, dries Lance’s hand with a paper towel, all of his fingers touching around Lance’s wrist and knuckles and every space in-between. 

“Hold this. Let me get a band-aid,” and Keith is stalking down the hall to the bathroom and Lance stands there looking after him. He comes back with a yellow plaster and he holds out his hand for Lance’s. Lance holds out his finger and Keith gingerly wraps the sticky part to his skin, wrapping it around and squeezing at it gently for good measure. “There.”

“Th-thanks,” he says and Keith’s eyelashes are so so long. They flutter when he looks up from under his fringe, and Lance can count almost all of them before Keith is leaning in, pressing his nose to Lance’s cheek. He inhales slowly, heavily and Lance grunts. “Yeah, okay.”

Keith inhales again. “You smell like the sun,” he says, tucking his nose to the side of Lance’s neck. “Like dirt and sweet hay. I missed it,” and Keith pulls a little away, looking at Lance a little shyly now. 

“The earth?” Lance asks timidly, but he knows that’s not- there’s no mistaking the way Keith is looking at him. 

Keith gives him a small smile and shakes his head. “No,” he argues. “You.” And he’s slowly leaning forwards, his eyes trained on Lance’s. “Is this-?”

But Lance is already nodding, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t look at Keith when he’s so beautiful in the sun that’s streaking through his kitchen window. He feels Keith come close, bringing warmth and the smell of a supernova into his senses. All the hairs at Lance’s nape stand to attention when Keith’s hand comes up and cups him there, at the slow curve of his neck, to angle his head. There’s a press of lips, Keith’s lips, tasting like chocolate and flour and milk and Lance feels his thighs tremble-

Keith pulls back, turns his face, comes back in. He pushes Lance up against the edge of the counter behind them, and Lance’s shoulders banging into the cabinets. 

Keith’s hands sweep down his sides, touch lightly at his waist, and Lance whimpers into Keith’s mouth. He feels those fingers spasm, then clutch tight to him and Lance is hiking himself up onto the counter, spreading his knees. Keith takes one step forward, puts his hips between Lance’s like he’s always belonged there. 

He runs his hands over Keith’s shoulders, down the blades of his back, the valley of his spine. Keith grunts into his mouth, his hands on his hips pulling him closer at the center. Keith’s thumbs slot against the bones of his hips over his jeans and rubs in small circles there. Lance sighs through parted lips and Keith takes that advantage and slides his tongue into Lance’s waiting mouth. 

It’s hot, slick, wicked- a little dirtier than Lance would have ever expected and his blood pounds through his veins like a bass. He lifts his legs and wraps them around Keith’s waist, bringing them flush together, the space in-between the vee of Lance’s thighs turning warm and easy. 

Keith is a wall of solid, tense muscle and Lance doesn’t feel like he’ll break him. He slides his fingers into Keith’s hair, loosens the strands of his low ponytail with his fingers as he holds on. Keith whines into his mouth when he tugs a little too sharply, ruts up against Lance and oh, interesting. He pulls again and Keith grunts, disconnects their lips. 

“You like getting your hair pulled?” he asks holding Keith by his hair. 

“I don- Lance-” and he’s panting, pulling against Lance’s hold and a bright flush erupts over his cheeks. “I’ve never-” and Lance is releasing his hair and Keith comes crashing back into him, lips earnest and greedy. 

Lance is ravenous, spurred on by this knowledge. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you everything,” and all ten of Lance’s fingers sink into the thick mass at Keith’s crown, pulls him impossibly close. 

Keith picks him up off the counter and next time, next time, Lance’ll stop to admire how Keith’s muscles flex but he’s too fucking turned on at being carried like he weighs nothing over to the couch. He gets pressed down into the cushions and he lets Keith situate his torso between his spread legs. 

Time dilates and the sun creeps into the open space of the living room. Everything grows hot and humid and Lance sweats at his fringe and upper lip. Keith tastes like salt now, smells more musky. His shirt is a discarded and forgotten thing on the floor and Lance runs his hands over Keith’s exposed skin. Fingers over scars long healed over. 

He feels like this has been a long time coming. 

That fluttering in his chest beats one last, powerful time and breaks to change into warmth and contentment. It suffuses through his body like a growing tide. 

Keith lays against him as the sun sets, as the room cools. Lance feels as Keith smiles against his skin and asks Lance if he can stay. Lance runs fingers through his hair, a simple, heavy touch. He hold him, grounds Keith to him, promises to him that he’ll have a place for him here always, always. 

  
  



End file.
